


You're A Fool To Stay (But I Did)

by ShadowsLament



Series: the Restoration verse [5]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsLament/pseuds/ShadowsLament
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a mission has gone wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic references both "[Desperate For Grace](http://archiveofourown.org/works/364890)" and "[Living With Your Ghosts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/403917)"; it would be better to read them first, I think.
> 
> Two songs informed this fic: Matthew Mayfield’s "Fire Escape", which the title is taken from, and Sia’s “[My Love](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3e3mgmvCc0)”. Sia's especially, if you listen to it (maybe even while reading), will give you a sense of the tone I was going for with this piece. Whether I succeeded or not is another matter entirely. As always, thanks for reading!

“He’ll come out of it, Tony.” Bruce caught his friend’s eye through a wide monitor that charted and chirped, displaying a second by second account of Steve’s vital signs, and tried to hold it. Tried to reason with the look he received in return: raw as an open wound and bleeding. “His body will break the virus down, but...It’s gonna take time.”

“How did--Do we even know how the Crew got a weapon like that?” Laughter devoid of mirth escaped the trembling line of Tony’s lips. “They _might_ share an IQ of ten between them. No way they could have--Not left to their own devices. Someone’s pulling strings; I want to know who. And where the scissors got off to.”

“Fury and Thor are working on them now.” Bruce took a breath deep enough to pull at the buttons slipped haphazardly through mismatched holes. “We’ve got things covered on that end. And here.” He raked a hand through his hair. “There’s nothing you can do here.”

“Not true.” Tony shifted his attention back to where Steve’s head lay, an immobile weight compressing the pillow he had lifted it from that morning, a sleep-warm smile teasing the right corner of his mouth as he replaced Tony’s sheet with his body. “I can stay here. Be here when he...He’s going to wake up.”

“Absolutely.” Abandoning the monitor, Bruce skirted various pieces of equipment cluttering the floor. He paused next to where Tony sat, his knees pressed against the bed.

Before Steve, Tony would have shrugged off the hand Bruce laid on his shoulder. But Steve had soothed him with quiet, sincere words, spoken as often in the light as the dark; had bound him with his touch. He had broken Tony as though he had been a kind of half-wild, skittish horse, unaccustomed to affection or physical demonstrations of comfort and acceptance. The metaphor, Tony realized, wasn’t far off the mark. But that was before.

Covering Bruce’s hand with his own, Tony held on. 

“I’ll be outside,” Bruce squeezed his shoulder, “if you need...anything.” He waited for Tony’s hand to slip back to his lap before retreating to the hall, shutting the door behind him.

Leaning across the mattress, his elbow braced where the star had rested countless hours before, Tony wound the hair that cut across Steve’s forehead around a finger. He brushed the soft strands back, trying to recreate the angle Steve favored, away from the part, but his ring caught and tugged, making a mess of the job. He looked at his hand, shaking no matter how he tried to hold it steady; at the ring Steve had given him. After Tony, like a fool, had said yes. 

“This is worse, Steve.” He brought the band to his lips. “And that time--Before you came down and Pepper bailed and you asked me...Ali was behind the reactor, fighting his way out of my...out of my chest. Like a motherfucking champ. But this is--Stupid. Right? Wake up and tell me I’m being irrational. Because you’re going to be fine. You’re--” He huffed out a choked breath. “Goddamnit, I know you’re going to be fine, but...”

The possibility couldn’t be ignored. That he might not--That the serum, created decades ago, might not have shored Steve’s defenses against this new strain of attack. And if it came to that--”I swear you don’t listen to me. Or you’ve learned to tune me out. Coulson did, but--We’ve covered this. Remember? I said I’d find you, wherever I had to go, and kick your ass. Or kiss it. I’m not--both, probably. You know me. Never miss an opportunity to have your...To have you.”

Dropping his arm to the bed, he buried his head in the bend of his elbow and reached out blind, feeling for Steve’s hand. Finding it still and heavy on the mattress, Tony laced their fingers together; his thumb became a metronome, stroking, keeping time to the pulse that throbbed under feverish skin.

Twisting his head, he blinked Steve’s face into focus.

“Before I castrate Wrecker, I’m going to have to ask him how he got your cowl off that quickly. Because, really, it wasn’t fair - even though you seemed to think it was hilarious - that time you had my clothes on the floor, and I was still working on getting that fucking thing off. If you had let me go for one of Natasha’s knives, we--I couldn’t get to you, Steve. And...I know what panic feels like.” Tony’s throat scraped, closed. “Waking up in a cave hooked up to a car battery? Kind of a crash course on the subject. But when I saw you go down...When you didn’t get back--That wasn’t it. It wasn’t panic. It was--I’ll have to add terror to the list of things never to be experienced again.” Swallowing to smooth the rough edges that made his voice break on the last word, Tony tightened his grip on Steve. “So, you know, try not to let this - or anything remotely like it - happen again. I need your prom--”

“Sir?” 

“Jarvis.” Tony sighed. “Not...now. Whatever it is--”

“Agent Barton has asked me to pass along that he has procured a meal for you. He’s left it--”

“I’m not--Thank him? For me?”

“Of course.” A prolonged pause. “Sir? Mr. Rogers would not leave you. Certainly not like this. He will recover, and will be upset if he learns you did not take care. Try to eat. Rest.”

“Maybe,” Tony hedged. “Jarvis? I’ve run the odds, and...I don’t get it. How is he the one in the bed? And I’m the one sitting here? My math is never--”

“Wrong. I’m aware, sir. I cannot tell you why--”

“No? No. I didn’t exp--Steve would know what to do.” 

“He could do no more than you are now.” 

“I can’t--I’m not cut out for this.” Rubbing the ache at his temples, Tony’s stomach clenched. He felt grief like a sickness: shutting his system down, tricking the cadence of his heart into an irregular beat. “But I...wanted. This one thing. Him.” He tried to catch his smile before it unfurled and failed. “Not like I stood a chance against him. The Star Spangled Stubborn Man. Who knew his plan would involve copious amounts of mind-blowing sex? And...Shit. I do love to hear myself talk, don’t I? Why am I--He can’t even--If you can hear me, Steve--Can you?”

Tony watched for the slightest shift of muscle; a flutter of long, pale lashes; a furrowed brow, those two lines digging in deep, telegraphing the confusion that sometimes followed Steve into the morning light. When no change came, Tony lifted his face to the ceiling. “Really?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Too much to ask?”

“Perhaps it would help to continue talk--”

“Steve waking up,” Tony snapped. “That’s what will help. There’s not a damn thing--”

“Your heart rate, sir. It’s elevating to--”

“You think I can’t feel it? That I don’t know it’s--” Tony closed his eyes, giving the moisture gathering there free reign to fall; tears making tracks down his cheeks, heedless of the hasty swipe of his thumb meant to clear them away. Lowering his head back to his arm, Tony tugged Steve’s hand under his chin; he held it in the shelter he’d made there, silently promising to not let go. “Well, it’s his, isn’t it?”

A kiss to Steve’s knuckle, and then: “Jarvis?”

“I know, sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Tony?” 

His head jerked up from the bed; Tony could feel where the bunched sheets had impressed a line on his skin. He chose to ignore the way his lips burned, dry and red where his teeth had bitten and tugged. His gaze skittered up Steve’s chest to his face.

Blue eyes met and searched his; clear and bright and questioning. 

A sob rose in Tony’s throat and broke on his name: “Steve?” 

Steve’s grip tightened and clung. “How long have I been--”

“Three days.”

“And you’ve been here--”

Tony cut him off with a sharp nod.

Bringing his free hand across his chest, Steve lifted it to Tony’s hair, his fingers carding through the strands, cradling his head. “That whole time--You didn’t have to stay.”

“But I did.” Easing onto the bed, Tony slid down next to Steve. He pulled him close with an arm around his waist and tucked his head into Steve’s throat. “I will.”


End file.
